How Far Can You Help Us? (1)

“Ceremonial Affairs Head Do‑Hyeon?”

“Yes.”

Yeon Tae‑Ha nodded slowly. “He’s the one who controls the court right now.”

“No—aren’t Ceremonial Affairs Heads eunuchs? An eunuch controls the court?”

When Jo Gul asked as if he couldn’t believe it, Yeon Tae‑Ha gave a wry smile. “An eunuch, huh… I don’t think that description really fits him.”

“What?”

Yeon Tae‑Ha forced a smile, as if the explanation would be awkward. “Eunuchs hold far more power than you think. Above all, they serve His Majesty most closely.”

“Hmm, that’s true, but…”

“And Ceremonial Affairs Head Do‑Hyeon is not the ordinary eunuch you imagine.”

At those words, Baek Cheon looked puzzled. “Not an ordinary eunuch—what do you mean?”

“How should I put it.” Yeon Tae‑Ha faltered, then So Jung‑Gyeong took over.

“He didn’t become an eunuch and then rise to power. He was someone fated to rule who happened to become an eunuch. Even as a civil scholar or a military officer, his position would have been the same.”

Chung Myung immediately grasped the implication. “You mean the man himself is exceptional.”

“Exactly.”

Chung Myung glanced at So Jung‑Gyeong with an amused expression. So Jung‑Gyeong had risen to be a respected scholar, but no one thought he alone controlled the court. For him to claim Do‑Hyeon would have held the same sway even without his office subtly suggested Do‑Hyeon ranked above So Jung‑Gyeong.

“After entering the palace as an eunuch, he stood out quickly. He seized the Dongsheng before long, and now he grips the whole court.” Hostility laced So Jung‑Gyeong’s voice. “He even blinds His Majesty’s insight—”

“Ah.”

Chung Myung abruptly cut him off. “Enough. I don’t care about the scholars’ versus eunuchs’ power games—give me the conclusion.”

So Jung‑Gyeong, stung by being lumped together with eunuchs, hesitated before replying. “For you to treat us the same as those wretches—”

“No, that’s not our concern. Frankly, to us they look the same. It’s only a question of who’s clinging to power.” So Jung‑Gyeong’s face showed wounded pride, but the others averted their eyes; Chung Myung’s point had merit.

“Good heavens…” So Jung‑Gyeong collapsed into melodrama, but Chung Myung had no sympathy.

“So you think Do‑Hyeon is the mastermind?”

“To lump us with eunuch scum—”

“Ahem. Yes, that’s it.”

Yeon Tae‑Ha, still recovering from So Jung‑Gyeong’s mutterings, picked up the thread. “As I said, many could topple the Shandong Yu clan, but only one person in today’s court has the means to keep the fallen family suppressed continuously.”

Chung Myung nodded. “I understand.”

“Huh?”

“So that bastard is the problem, right?”

“Y‑yes.”

“If only that bastard were gone, it’d be fine. What should we do? Infiltrate? Slip in like a mouse—”

“What, are you crazy? What nonsense is this mad Taoist spouting!” Yeon Tae‑Ha exploded, ready to leap from his seat. “Ceremonial Affairs Head! Do you mean we should ‘slip him away’? Slip him away?”

“We apologize on our behalf…”

“Sorry. My temper’s worse than usual today.” The Mount Hua disciples tried to calm him, but Chung Myung clicked his tongue. “This is why mortals are like this. What’s so great about them?”

Yeon Tae‑Ha shook his head, face pale. Chung Myung sidled up, covered his mouth with one hand, and whispered low, “You said ‘slip him away,’ but I could do it without a trace—an undetectable poison, or a blocked vessel. Just say the word.”

“Get lost! You madman! Where did such an uncouth man come from!” Yeon Tae‑Ha flushed with anger as he spat curses; the Mount Hua disciples smiled with grim satisfaction. “Unlearned and without Tao—what worse insult can a Taoist hear?”

“But I can’t argue with that.”

“I find myself inclined to agree.”

After grumbling and barely calming, Yeon Tae‑Ha cleared his throat. “Don’t ever bring up such things again. That is not the way.”

“Tsk, so narrow‑minded.”

“No matter how many enemies we have, such methods are unacceptable. Even if they worked, once you cross that line all that awaits is ruin.” Chung Myung nodded and fell silent.

“So then what do you propose we do?” Baek Cheon asked, as if he didn’t follow. “Even if you can guess the evildoer, if we won’t use physical means, what can we do?”

“Shouldn’t we identify the root cause properly?”

“Pardon?”

“Isn’t what you want not revenge, but to pave the way for this child to attain an official post?” The Mount Hua disciples nodded; their motivation wasn’t vengeance for the Shandong Yu family—that was Yu Han‑Bin’s affair.

“But you said he’s preventing the Shandong Yu heirs from taking posts, didn’t you?”

“That’s right.”

“If we can’t deal with him directly, the only option left is negotiation, isn’t it?”

“Negotiate? With him?” So Jung‑Gyeong shook his head. “Impossible. You don’t know Do‑Hyeon. Once he decides, he never backs down. He’s far more tenacious than you imagine.”

“Then there’s no way?”

“A way… As I said, Do‑Hyeon would be extraordinary even without his title. But the reason he controls so much now is precisely because he is Ceremonial Affairs Head.” So Jung‑Gyeong spoke with a determined face. “Power can’t last forever. He may now wield authority beyond his office, but nothing is absolute. His influence can crumble from a single clue.”

The Mount Hua disciples listened more intently, beginning to understand.

“If he falls from power, there’ll be no one left to hold the Shandong Yu heirs down. Then we can support them.”

“How do we do that?”

“Recently, odd incidents have been occurring in Beijing.”

“Hmm?”

“We believe these are schemes stirred by Do‑Hyeon. You’re to investigate. If you find even one clue tying Do‑Hyeon to them, we’ll handle the rest.”

Chung Myung snorted. “So you want us to bring back the clue that will topple him?”

“Yes.”

“Fine in words, but that means you’re using us as your blade. Why should we involve ourselves in your power struggle and act as proxies?”

“Well…”

“You better answer well.” Chung Myung’s eyes flashed cold; his voice carried a weight So Jung‑Gyeong could not ignore. Yet So Jung‑Gyeong answered calmly, as if he had nothing to hide.

“The phrase ‘proxy murder’ is odd.”

“Hmm?”

“It means mutual assistance. Since you’ve taken the Shandong Yu heir under your wing, someday you’ll inevitably clash with Do‑Hyeon.”

“There’s no rule it must end that way.”

“No, it will.”

Chung Myung opened his mouth to question the eerie certainty, but So Jung‑Gyeong continued. “A family ruined despite innocence. They sought what was right and were crushed by power, losing loved ones. You took that child in because it felt right, didn’t you?”

No one voiced the thought aloud, but the Mount Hua disciples exchanged looks.

“As far as I know, your sect values deliberation above all. You wouldn’t ignore such injustice, would you?”

“Of course.”

“We must stand against it.” The disciples exchanged awkward glances; it seemed the wiser course.

“That’s fine. But why must we do it? Isn’t Beijing full of scholars? Surely we needn’t step in.”

So Jung‑Gyeong let out a short inward laugh. “What do you think the Dongsheng does?”

“A place where eunuchs gather to socialize? To trade tips on nail care?”

“…The Dongsheng is the realm’s largest surveillance organization.”

“Oh, really?” Chung Myung replied dismissively, and So Jung‑Gyeong sighed.

“As you said, Beijing is full of scholars like grains of sand. But not all will risk their lives to stand with us.”

“Hmm.”

“And even those with the will face the same issue: this task isn’t for ordinary abilities. Those unfamiliar with martial matters can’t manage it. So we must step forward.”

“You mean those tied to the Confucian scholars are all targets of Dongsheng surveillance?”

“That’s right. There’s only one way: we must seek help from people the Dongsheng would never watch. For example…” So Jung‑Gyeong looked at the Mount Hua disciples. “Taoist recluses who have no ties to the secular world.”

“Hmm.”

Baek Cheon nodded. “Indeed—if they’re recluses, Dongsheng won’t reach them.”

“Exactly.” So Jung‑Gyeong smiled faintly. “It’s mutual aid. You help us with a small task; we grant what you want. How about it? Simple, isn’t it?”

“Ha. It does sound that way.” Chung Myung’s smile was slight. “Much cleaner than talking about power or justice.”

“I thought we could reach an understanding.”

“But… huh? When you put it like that, it’s strange.”

“Huh?” So Jung‑Gyeong asked.

“Strange?”

“Isn’t it odd? You call it a small task, yet you ask the power that grips the court with one hand—even to investigate the head of the Dongsheng. And the price is merely to let a child sit the state examination. Not an official post—just let him take the exam?”

As Chung Myung’s eyes sharpened, So Jung‑Gyeong closed his mouth.

“Do these fellows think we’ve come down the mountain to be fooled? Offer this as a bargain? These scholar‑fed brats are worse than robbers—old sayings never lie!”

“T‑then what should we do…”

“What do you mean, how? If it doesn’t fit, make it fit.”

“Huh?”

Thud!

Chung Myung planted his foot on the table in the pavilion, then tilted his head and looked at So Jung‑Gyeong. “So, how far can you go for us?”

“…”

“Let him take the state examination first.”

So Jung‑Gyeong realized the situation was unfolding very differently from what he had expected.